MANIFESTO Andre Breton

8/13/2019 MANIFESTO Andre Breton

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M ANIFESTO

OF SURREALISM

BY ANDR BRETON

(1924)So strong is the belief in life, in what is most fragile in life real life, I mean that in the end this belief is lost. Man, thatinveterate dreamer, daily more discontent with his destiny, hastrouble assessing the objects he has been led to use, objectsthat his nonchalance has brought his way, or that he hasearned through his own efforts, almost always through his ownefforts, for he has agreed to work, at least he has not refusedto try his luck (or what he calls his luck! . t this "oint he feelse#tremely modest$ he knows what women he has had, whatsilly affairs he has been involved in% he is unim"ressed by hiswealth or his "overty, in this res"ect he is still a newborn babeand, as for the a""roval of his conscience, I confess that he

does very nicely without it. If he still retains a certain lucidity,all he can do is turn back toward his childhood which, howeverhis guides and mentors may have botched it, still strikes himas somehow charming. &here, the absence of any knownrestrictions allows him the "ers"ective of several lives lived atonce% this illusion becomes firmly rooted within him% now he isonly interested in the fleeting, the e#treme facility of


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everything. 'hildren set off each day without a worry in theworld. verything is near at hand, the worst material conditionsare fine. &he woods are white or black, one will never slee".

)ut it is true that we would not dare venture so far, it is notmerely a *uestion of distance. &hreat is "iled u"on threat, oneyields, abandons a "ortion of the terrain to be con*uered. &hisimagination which knows no bounds is henceforth allowed tobe e#ercised only in strict accordance with the laws of anarbitrary utility% it is inca"able of assuming this inferior role forvery long and, in the vicinity of the twentieth year, generally"refers to abandon man to his lusterless fate.

&hough he may later try to "ull himself together on occasion,having felt that he is losing by slow degrees all reason forliving, inca"able as he has become of being able to rise tosome e#ce"tional situation such as love, he will hardlysucceed. &his is because he henceforth belongs body and soulto an im"erative "ractical necessity which demands hisconstant attention. +one of his gestures will be e#"ansive,none of his ideas generous or far reaching. In his mind-s eye,events real or imagined will be seen only as they relate to awelter of similar events, events in which he has not"artici"ated, abortive events. hat am I saying$ he will judge

them in relationshi" to one of these events whoseconse*uences are more reassuring than the others. /n noaccount will he view them as his salvation.

)eloved imagination, what I most like in you is your uns"aring*uality.

&here remains madness, 0the madness that one locks u",0 as ithas a"tly been described. &hat madness or another1. e allknow, in fact, that the insane owe their incarceration to a tiny

number of legally re"rehensible acts and that, were it not forthese acts their freedom (or what we see as their freedomwould not be threatened. I am willing to admit that they are, tosome degree, victims of their imagination, in that it inducesthem not to "ay attention to certain rules outside of whichthe s"ecies feels threatened which we are all su""osed toknow and res"ect. )ut their "rofound indifference to the way in


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which we judge them, and even to the various "unishmentsmeted out to them, allows us to su""ose that they derive agreat deal of comfort and consolation from their imagination,that they enjoy their madness sufficiently to endure thethought that its validity does not e#tend beyond themselves.nd, indeed, hallucinations, illusions, etc., are not a source oftrifling "leasure. &he best controlled sensuality "artakes of it,and I know that there are many evenings when I would gladlythat "retty hand which, during the last "ages of

&aine-s LIntelligence, indulges in some curious misdeeds. Icould s"end my whole life "rying loose the secrets of theinsane. &hese "eo"le are honest to a fault, and their naivet2has no "eer but my own. 'hristo"her 'olumbus should haveset out to discover merica with a boatload of madmen. nd

note how this madness has taken sha"e, and endured.

It is not the fear of madness which will oblige us to leave theflag of imagination furled.

&he case against the realistic attitude demands to bee#amined, following the case against the materialistic attitude.

&he latter, more "oetic in fact than the former, admittedly

im"lies on the "art of man a kind of monstrous "ride which,admittedly, is monstrous, but not a new and more com"letedecay. It should above all be viewed as a welcome reactionagainst certain ridiculous tendencies of s"iritualism. 3inally, itis not incom"atible with a certain nobility of thought.

)y contrast, the realistic attitude, ins"ired by "ositivism, fromSaint &homas *uinas to natole 3rance, clearly seems to meto be hostile to any intellectual or moral advancement. I loatheit, for it is made u" of mediocrity, hate, and dull conceit. It is

this attitude which today gives birth to these ridiculous books,these insulting "lays. It constantly feeds on and derivesstrength from the news"a"ers and stultifies both science andart by assiduously flattering the lowest of tastes% claritybordering on stu"idity, a dog-s life. &he activity of the bestminds feels the effects of it% the law of the lowest commondenominator finally "revails u"on them as it does u"on the


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others. n amusing result of this state of affairs, in literaturefor e#am"le, is the generous su""ly of novels. ach "ersonadds his "ersonal little 0observation0 to the whole. s acleansing antidote to all this, M. 4aul 5al2ry recently suggestedthat an anthology be com"iled in which the largest "ossiblenumber of o"ening "assages from novels be offered% theresulting insanity, he "redicted, would be a source ofconsiderable edification. &he most famous authors would beincluded. Such a though reflects great credit on 4aul 5al2rywho, some time ago, s"eaking of novels, assured me that, sofar as he was concerned, he would continue to refrain fromwriting$ 0&he Mar*uise went out at five.0 )ut has he ke"t hisword6

If the "urely informative style, of which the sentence just*uoted is a "rime e#am"le, is virtually the rule rather than thee#ce"tion in the novel form, it is because, in all fairness, theauthor-s ambition is severely circumscribed. &hecircumstantial, needlessly s"ecific nature of each of theirnotations leads me to believe that they are "er"etrating a jokeat my e#"ense. I am s"ared not even one of the character-sslightest vacillations$ will he be fairhaired6 what will his namebe6 will we first meet him during the summer6 So many*uestions resolved once and for all, as chance directs% the only

discretionary "ower left me is to close the book, which I amcareful to do somewhere in the vicinity of the first "age. ndthe descri"tions! &here is nothing to which their vacuity can becom"ared% they are nothing but so many su"erim"osed imagestaken from some stock catalogue, which the author utili7esmore and more whenever he chooses% he sei7es theo""ortunity to sli" me his "ostcards, he tries to make me agreewith him about the clich2s$

The small room into which the o!ng man was shown was

covere" with ellow wall#a#er$ there were gerani!ms in thewin"ows, which were covere" with m!slin c!rtains% the settings!n cast a harsh light over the entire setting&' There wasnothing s#ecial abo!t the room' The (!rnit!re, o( ellow woo",was all ver ol"' A so(a with a tall bac) t!rne" "own, an ovaltable o##osite the so(a, a "ressing table an" a mirror setagainst the #ierglass, some chairs along the walls, two or three


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etchings o( no val!e #ortra ing some *erman girls with bir"sin their han"s + s!ch were the (!rnishings' (8ostoevski, rimean" -!nishment

I am in no mood to admit that the mind is interested inoccu"ying itself with such matters, even fleetingly. It may beargued that this school boy descri"tion has its "lace, and thatat this juncture of the book the author has his reasons forburdening me. +evertheless he is wasting his time, for I refuseto go into his room. /thers- la7iness or fatigue does notinterest me. I have too unstable a notion of the continuity oflife to e*uate or com"are my moments of de"ression orweakness with my best moments. hen one ceases to feel, Iam of the o"inion one should kee" *uiet. nd I would like itunderstood that I am not accusing or condemning lack oforiginality as s!ch' I am only saying that I do not take"articular note of the em"ty moments of my life, that it may beunworthy for any man to crystalli7e those which seem to himto be so. I shall, with your "ermission, ignore the descri"tion ofthat room, and many more like it.

+ot so fast, there% I-m getting into the area of "sychology, a

subject about which I shall be careful not to joke. &he author attacks a character and, this being settled u"on,"arades his hero to and fro across the world. +o matter whatha""ens, this hero, whose actions and reactions are admirably"redictable, is com"elled not to thwart or u"set even thoughhe looks as though he is the calculations of which he is theobject. &he currents of life can a""ear to lift him u", roll himover, cast him down, he will still belong tothis rea" ma"e human ty"e. sim"le game of chess which

doesn9t interest me in the least man, whoever he may be,being for me a mediocre o""onent. hat I cannot bear arethose wretched discussions relative to such and such a move,since winning or losing is not in *uestion. nd if the game isnot worth the candle, if objective reason does a frightful job as indeed it does of serving him who calls u"on it, is it notfitting and "ro"er to avoid all contact with these categories6


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08iversity is so vast that every different tone of voice, everyste", cough, every wi"e of the nose, every snee7e....0:(4ascal. If in a cluster of gra"es there are no two alike, why doyou want me to describe this gra"e by the other, by all theothers, why do you want me to make a "alatable gra"e6 /urbrains are dulled by the incurable mania of wanting to makethe unknown known, classifiable. &he desire for analysis winsout over the sentiments.:: ()arr;s, -ro!st' &he result isstatements of undue length whose "ersuasive "ower isattributable solely to their strangeness and which im"ress thereader only by the abstract *uality of their vocabulary, whichmoreover is ill defined. If the general ideas that "hiloso"hy hasthus far come u" with as to"ics of discussion revealed by theirvery nature their definitive incursion into a broader or more

general area. I would be the first to greet the news with joy.)ut u" till now it has been nothing but idle re"artee% theflashes of wit and other niceties vie in concealing from us thetrue thought in search of itself, instead of concentrating onobtaining successes. It seems to me that every act is its own

justification, at least for the "erson who has been ca"able ofcommitting it, that it is endowed with a radiant "ower whichthe slightest gloss is certain to diminish. )ecause of this gloss,it even in a sense ceases to ha""en. It gains nothing to be thusdistinguished. Stendhal9s heroes are subject to the comments

and a""raisals a""raisals which are more or less successful made by that author, which add not one whit to their glory.here we really find them again is at the "oint at whichStendahl has lost them.

e are still living under the reign of logic$ this, of course, iswhat I have been driving at. )ut in this day and age logicalmethods are a""licable only to solving "roblems of secondaryinterest. &he absolute rationalism that is still in vogue allows usto consider only facts relating directly to our e#"erience.


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"rotected by the sentinels of common sense. =nder the"retense of civili7ation and "rogress, we have managed tobanish from the mind everything that may rightly or wronglybe termed su"erstition, or fancy% forbidden is any kind ofsearch for truth which is not in conformance with acce"ted"ractices. It was, a""arently, by "ure chance that a "art of ourmental world which we "retended not to be concerned withany longer and, in my o"inion by far the most im"ortant "art has been brought back to light. 3or this we must give thanks

to the discoveries of Sigmund 3reud. /n the basis of thesediscoveries a current of o"inion is finally forming by means ofwhich the human e#"lorer will be able to carry his investigationmuch further, authori7ed as he will henceforth be not toconfine himself solely to the most summary realities. &he

imagination is "erha"s on the "oint of reasserting itself, ofreclaiming its rights. If the de"ths of our mind contain within itstrange forces ca"able of augmenting those on the surface, orof waging a victorious battle against them, there is everyreason to sei7e them first to sei7e them, then, if need be, tosubmit them to the control of our reason. &he analyststhemselves have everything to gain by it. )ut it is worth notingthat no means has been designated a "riori for carrying outthis undertaking, that until further notice it can be construed tobe the "rovince of "oets as well as scholars, and that its

success is not de"endent u"on the more or less ca"ricious"aths that will be followed.

3reud very rightly brought his critical faculties to bear u"on thedream. It is, in fact, inadmissible that this considerable "ortionof "sychic activity (since, at least from man9s birth until hisdeath, thought offers no solution of continuity, the sum of themoments of the dream, from the "oint of view of time, andtaking into consideration only the time of "ure dreaming, thatis the dreams of slee", is not inferior to the sum of themoments of reality, or, to be more "recisely limiting, themoments of waking has still today been so grossly neglected. Ihave always been ama7ed at the way an ordinary observerlends so much more credence and attaches so much moreim"ortance to waking events than to those occurring in


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dreams. It is because man, when he ceases to slee", is aboveall the "laything of his memory, and in its normal statememory takes "leasure in weakly retracing for him thecircumstances of the dream, in stri""ing it of any realim"ortance, and in dismissing the only "eterminant from the"oint where he thinks he has left it a few hours before$ thisfirm ho"e, this concern. >e is under the im"ression ofcontinuing something that is worthwhile. &hus the dream findsitself reduced to a mere "arenthesis, as is the night. nd, likethe night, dreams generally contribute little to furthering ourunderstanding. &his curious state of affairs seems to me to callfor certain reflections$

? ithin the limits where they o"erate (or are thought too"erate dreams give every evidence of being continuous andshow signs of organi7ation. Memory alone arrogates to itselfthe right to e#cer"t from dreams, to ignore the transitions, andto de"ict for us rather a series of dreams than the "reamitsel(' )y the same token, at any given moment we have only adistinct notion of realities, the coordination of which is a*uestion of will.: ( ccount must be taken of the "e#th of thedream. 3or the most "art I retain only what I can glean from itsmost su"erficial layers. hat I most enjoy contem"lating abouta dream is everything that sinks back below the surface in a

waking state, everything I have forgotten about my activities inthe course of the "receding day, dark foliage, stu"id branches.In 0reality,0 likewise, I "refer to (all' hat is worth noting isthat nothing allows us to "resu""ose a greater dissi"ation ofthe elements of which the dream is constituted. I am sorry tohave to s"eak about it according to a formula which in"rinci"le e#cludes the dream. hen will we have slee"inglogicians, slee"ing "hiloso"hers6 I would like to slee", in orderto surrender myself to the dreamers, the way I surrendermyself to those who read me with eyes wide o"en% in order tosto" im"osing, in this realm, the conscious rhythm of mythought. 4erha"s my dream last night follows that of the nightbefore, and will be continued the ne#t night, with an e#em"larystrictness. It.s /!ite #ossible, as the saying goes. nd since ithas not been "roved in the slightest that, in doing so, the0reality0 with which I am ke"t busy continues to e#ist in thestate of dream, that it does not sink back down into the


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immemorial, why should I not grant to dreams what Ioccasionally refuse reality, that is, this value of certainty initself which, in its own time, is not o"en to my re"udiation6hy should I not e#"ect from the sign of the dream more thanI e#"ect from a degree of consciousness which is daily moreacute6 'an9t the dream also be used in solving thefundamental *uestions of life6 re these *uestions the same inone case as in the other and, in the dream, do these *uestionsalready e#ist6 Is the dream any less restrictive or "unitive thanthe rest6 I am growing old and, more than that reality to whichI believe I subject myself, it is "erha"s the dream, thedifference with which I treat the dream, which makes me growold.

@


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A &he mind of the man who dreams is fully satisfied by whatha""ens to him. &he agoni7ing *uestion of "ossibility is nolonger "ertinent. Bill, fly faster, love to your heart9s content.nd if you should die, are you not certain of reawaking amongthe dead6


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back to it. t this juncture, my intention was merely to mark a"oint by noting the hate o( the marvelo!s which rages incertain men, this absurdity beneath which they try to bury it.


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It may seem arbitrary on my "art, when discussing themarvelous, to choose this model, from which both the +ordicliteratures and /riental literatures have borrowed time andtime again, not to mention the religious literatures of everycountry. &his is because most of the e#am"les which theseliteratures could have furnished me with are tainted by"uerility, for the sim"le reason that they are addressed tochildren. t an early age children are weaned on themarvelous, and later on they fail to retain a sufficient virginityof mind to thoroughly enjoy fairy tales. +o matter howcharming they may be, a grown man would think he werereverting to childhood by nourishing himself on fairy tales, andI am the first to admit that all such tales are not suitable forhim. &he fabric of adorable im"robabilities must be made a

trifle more subtle the older we grow, and we are still at the ageof waiting for this kind of s"ider.... )ut the faculties do notchange radically. 3ear, the attraction of the unusual, chance,the taste for things e#travagant are all devices which we canalways call u"on without fear of dece"tion. &here are fairytales to be written for adults, fairy tales still almost blue.

&he marvelous is not the same in every "eriod of history$ it"artakes in some obscure way of a sort of general revelationonly the fragments of which come down to us$ they are the

romantic r!ins, the modern manne/!in, or any other symbolca"able of affecting the human sensibility for a "eriod of time.In these areas which make us smile, there is still "ortrayed theincurable human restlessness, and this is why I take them intoconsideration and why I judge them inse"arable from certain"roductions of genius which are, more than the others,"ainfully afflicted by them. &hey are 5illon9s gibbets, Eacine9sFreeks, )audelaire9s couches. &hey coincide with an ecli"se ofthe taste I am made to endure, I whose notion of taste is theimage of a big s"ot. mid the bad taste of my time I strive togo further than anyone else. It would have been I, had I lived in?G@H, I 0the bleeding nun,0 I who would not have s"ared thiscunning and banal 0let us conceal0 whereof the "arodical'uisin s"eaks, it would have been I, I who would have reveledin the enormous meta"hors, as he says, all "hases of the0silver disk.0 3or today I think of a castle, half of which is notnecessarily in ruins% this castle belongs to me, I "icture it in a


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rustic setting, not far from 4aris. &he outbuildings are toonumerous to mention, and, as for the interior, it has beenfrightfully restored, in such manner as to leave nothing to bedesired from the view"oint of comfort. utomobiles are "arkedbefore the door, concealed by the shade of trees. few of myfriends are living here as "ermanent guests$ there is


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bother the other, there, safely sheltered from the sentimental"ursuit and at the trysting "lace of o""ortunities6

Man "ro"oses and dis"oses. >e and he alone can determinewhether he is com"letely master of himself, that is, whether hemaintains the body of his desires, daily more formidable, in astate of anarchy. 4oetry teaches him to. It bears within itselfthe "erfect com"ensation for the miseries we endure. It canalso be an organi7er, if ever, as the result of a less intimatedisa""ointment, we contem"late taking it seriously. &he time iscoming when it decrees the end of money and by itself willbreak the bread of heaven for the earth! &here will still begatherings on the "ublic s*uares, and movements you neverdared ho"e "artici"ate in. 3arewell to absurd choices, thedreams of dark abyss, rivalries, the "rolonged "atience, theflight of the seasons, the artificial order of ideas, the ram" ofdanger, time for everything! May you only take the troubleto #ractice "oetry. Is it not incumbent u"on us, who arealready living off it, to try and im"ose what we hold to be ourcase for further in*uiry6

It matters not whether there is a certain dis"ro"ortion betweenthis defense and the illustration that will follow it. It was a*uestion of going back to the sources of "oetic imaginationand, what is more, of remaining there. +ot that I "retend tohave done so. It re*uires a great deal of fortitude to try to setu" one9s abode in these distant regions where everythingseems at first to be so awkward and difficult, all the more so ifone wants to try to take someone there. )esides, one is neversure of really being there. If one is going to all that trouble, one

might as well sto" off somewhere else. )e that as it may, thefact is that the way to these regions is clearly marked, and thatto attain the true goal is now merely a matter of the travelers9ability to endure.


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e are all more or less aware of the road traveled. I wascareful to relate, in the course of a study of the case of Eobert8esnos entitled +&EJ 8 S MJ8I=MS,: (See Les -as

#er"!s, "ublished by +.E.3. that I had been led to0concentrate my attention on the more or less "artial sentenceswhich, when one is *uite alone and on the verge of fallingaslee", become "erce"tible for the mind without its being"ossible to discover what "rovoked them.0 I had then justattem"ted the "oetic adventure with the minimum of risks,that is, my as"irations were the same as they are today but Itrusted in the slowness of formulation to kee" me from uselesscontacts, contacts of which I com"letely disa""roved. &hisattitude involved a modesty of thought certain vestiges ofwhich I still retain. t the end of my life, I shall doubtlessmanage to s"eak with great effort the way "eo"le s"eak, toa"ologi7e for my voice and my few remaining gestures. &hevirtue of the s"oken word (and the written word all the moreso seemed to me to derive from the faculty of foreshorteningin a striking manner the e#"osition (since there was e#"ositionof a small number of facts, "oetic or other, of which I mademyself the substance. I had come to the conclusion thatEimbaud had not "roceeded any differently. I was com"osing,

with a concern for variety that deserved better, the final "oemsof Mont "e #i1t1, that is, I managed to e#tract from the blanklines of this book an incredible advantage. &hese lines were theclosed eye to the o"erations of thought that I believed I wasobliged to kee" hidden from the reader. It was not deceit onmy "art, but my love of shocking the reader. I had the illusionof a "ossible com"licity, which I had more and more difficultygiving u". I had begun to cherish words e#cessively for thes"ace they allow around them, for their tangencies withcountless other words which I did not utter. &he "oem )< 'B3/E S& derives "recisely from this state of mind. It took me si#months to write it, and you may take my word for it that I didnot rest a single day. )ut this stemmed from the o"inion I hadof myself in those days, which was high, "lease don9t judge metoo harshly. I enjoy these stu"id confessions. t that "ointcubist "seudo "oetry was trying to get a foothold, but it hademerged defenseless from 4icasso9s brain, and I was thought


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to be as dull as dishwater (and still am . I had a sneakingsus"icion, moreover, that from the view"oint of "oetry I was offon the wrong road, but I hedged my bet as best I could,defying lyricism with salvos of definitions and formulas (the8ada "henomena were waiting in the wings, ready to come onstage and "retending to search for an a""lication of "oetry toadvertising (I went so far as to claim that the world would end,not with a good book but with a beautiful advertisement forheaven or for hell .

In those days, a man at least as boring as I, 4ierre Eeverdy,was writing$

The image is a #!re creation o( the min"'

It cannot be born (rom a com#arison b!t (rom a 2!3ta#ositiono( two more or less "istant realities'

The more the relationshi# between the two 2!3ta#ose" realitiesis "istant an" tr!e, the stronger the image will be 44 thegreater its emotional #ower an" #oetic realit '''5 (Nor"4S!", March ?K?G

&hese words, however sibylline for the uninitiated, weree#tremely revealing, and I "ondered them for a long time. )utthe image eluded me. Eeverdy9s aesthetic, a com"letely a"osteriori aesthetic, led me to mistake the effects for thecauses. It was in the midst of all this that I renouncedirrevocably my "oint of view.

/ne evening, therefore, before I fell aslee", I "erceived, soclearly articulated that it was im"ossible to change a word, butnonetheless removed from the sound of any voice, a ratherstrange "hrase which came to me without any a""arentrelationshi" to the events in which, my consciousness agrees, Iwas then involved, a "hrase which seemed to me insistent, a"hrase, if I may be so bold, which was )noc)ing at thewin"ow' I took cursory note of it and "re"ared to move on


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when its organic character caught my attention. ctually, this"hrase astonished me$ unfortunately I cannot remember ite#actly, but it was something like$ 0&here is a man cut in twoby the window,0 but there could be no *uestion of ambiguity,accom"anied as it was by the faint visual image: ( ere I a"ainter, this visual de"iction would doubtless have becomemore im"ortant for me than the other. It was most certainly my"revious "redis"ositions which decided the matter. Since thatday, I have had occasion to concentrate my attentionvoluntarily on similar a""aritions, and I know they are fully asclear as auditory "henomena. ith a "encil and white sheet of"a"er to hand, I could easily trace their outlines. >ere again itis not a matter of drawing, but sim#l o( tracing' I could thusde"ict a tree, a wave, a musical instrument, all manner of

things of which I am "resently inca"able of "roviding even theroughest sketch. I would "lunge into it, convinced that I wouldfind my way again, in a ma7e of lines which at first glancewould seem to be going nowhere. nd, u"on o"ening my eyes,I would get the very strong im"ression of something 0neverseen.0 &he "roof of what I am saying has been "rovided manytimes by Eobert 8esnos$ to be convinced, one has only to leafthrough the "ages of issue number AL of Fe!illes libres whichcontains several of his drawings ( Romeo an" 6!liet, A Man 7ie"This Morning, etc. which were taken by this maga7ine as the

drawings of a madman and "ublished as such. of a manwalking cut half way u" by a window "er"endicular to the a#isof his body. )eyond the slightest shadow of a doubt, what Isaw was the sim"le reconstruction in s"ace of a man leaningout a window. )ut this window having shifted with the man, Ireali7ed that I was dealing with an image of a fairly rare sort,and all I could think of was to incor"orate it into my materialfor "oetic construction. +o sooner had I granted it this ca"acitythan it was in fact succeeded by a whole series of "hrases,with only brief "auses between them, which sur"rised me onlyslightly less and left me with the im"ression of their being sogratuitous that the control I had then e#ercised u"on myselfseemed to me illusory and all I could think of was "utting anend to the interminable *uarrel raging within me.: (Bnut>amsum ascribes this sort of revelation to which I had beensubjected as deriving from h!nger, and he may not be wrong.(&he fact is I did not eat every day during that "eriod of my


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life . Most certainly the manifestations that he describes inthese terms are clearly the same$

0&he following day I awoke at an early hour. It was still dark.My eyes had been o"en for a long time when I heard the clockin the a"artment above strike five. I wanted to go back toslee", but I couldn9t% I was wide awake and a thousandthoughts were crowding through my mind.

0Suddenly a few good fragments came to mind, *uite suitableto be used in a rough draft, or seriali7ed% all of a sudden Ifound, *uite by chance, beautiful "hrases, "hrases such as Ihad never written. I re"eated them to myself slowly, word byword% they were e#cellent. nd there were still more coming. Igot u" and "icked u" a "encil and some "a"er that were on atable behind my bed. It was as though some vein had burstwithin me, one word followed another, found its "ro"er "lace,ada"ted itself to the situation, scene "iled u"on scene, theaction unfolded, one retort after another welled u" in my mind,I was enjoying myself immensely. &houghts came to me sora"idly and continued to flow so abundantly that I lost a wholehost of delicate details, because my "encil could not kee" u"with them, and yet I went as fast as I could, my hand inconstant motion, I did not lose a minute. &he sentences

continued to well u" within me, I was "regnant with mysubject.0

"ollinaire asserted that 'hirico9s first "aintings were doneunder the influence of cenesthesic disorders (migraines, colics,etc. .

'om"letely occu"ied as I still was with 3reud at that time, and

familiar as I was with his methods of e#amination which I hadsome slight occasion to use on some "atients during the war, Iresolved to obtain from myself what we were trying to obtainfrom them, namely, a monologue s"oken as ra"idly as "ossiblewithout any intervention on the "art of the critical faculties, amonologue conse*uently unencumbered by the slightestinhibition and which was, as closely as "ossible, akin to s#o)en


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tho!ght' It had seemed to me, and still does the way inwhich the "hrase about the man cut in two had come to me isan indication of it that the s"eed of thought is no greaterthan the s"eed of s"eech, and that thought does notnecessarily defy language, nor even the fast moving "en. Itwas in this frame of mind that 4hili""e Sou"ault to whom Ihad confided these initial conclusions and I decided toblacken some "a"er, with a "raiseworthy disdain for whatmight result from a literary "oint of view. &he ease ofe#ecution did the rest. )y the end of the first day we were ableto read to ourselves some fifty or so "ages obtained in thismanner, and begin to com"are our results. ll in all, Sou"ault9s"ages and mine "roved to be remarkably similar$ the sameoverconstruction, shortcomings of a similar nature, but also, on

both our "arts, the illusion of an e#traordinary verve, a greatdeal of emotion, a considerable choice of images of a *ualitysuch that we would not have been ca"able of "re"aring asingle one in longhand, a very s"ecial "ictures*ue *uality and,here and there, a strong comical effect. &he only differencebetween our two te#ts seemed to me to derive essentially fromour res"ective tem"ers. Sou"ault9s being less static than mine,and, if he does not mind my offering this one slight criticism,from the fact that he had made the error of "utting a fewwords by way of titles at the to" of certain "ages, I su""ose in

a s"irit of mystification. /n the other hand, I must give creditwhere credit is due and say that he constantly and vigorouslyo""osed any effort to retouch or correct, however slightly, any"assage of this kind which seemed to me unfortunate. In thishe was, to be sure, absolutely right.: (I believe more and morein the infallibility of my thought with res"ect to myself, and thisis too fair. +onetheless, with this tho!ght4writing, where one isat the mercy of the first outside distraction, 0ebullutions0 canoccur. It would be ine#cusable for us to "retend otherwise. )ydefinition, thought is strong, and inca"able of catching itself inerror. &he blame for these obvious weaknesses must be "lacedon suggestions that come to it from without. It is, in fact,difficult to a""reciate fairly the various elements "resent$ onemay even go so far as to say that it is im"ossible to a""reciatethem at a first reading. &o you who write, these elements are,on the surface, as strange to o! as the are to an oneelse, and naturally you are wary of them. 4oetically s"eaking,


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what strikes you about them above all is their e3treme "egreeo( imme"iate abs!r"it , the *uality of this absurdity, u"oncloser scrutiny, being to give way to everything admissible,everything legitimate in the world$ the disclosure of a certainnumber of "ro"erties and of facts no less objective, in the finalanalysis, than the others.

In homage to Fuillaume "ollinaire, who had just died andwho, on several occasions, seemed to us to have followed adisci"line of this kind, without however having sacrificed to itany mediocre literary means, Sou"ault and I ba"ti7ed the newmode of "ure e#"ression which we had at our dis"osal andwhich we wished to "ass on to our friends, by the name ofS=EE


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all. Cou will find them at the end of the volume. &hey arehardly any more obscure than >egel9s meta"hysics orSwedenborg9s M M/E )I


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Coung9s Nights are Surrealist from one end to the other%unfortunately it is a "riest who is s"eaking, a bad "riest nodoubt, but a "riest nonetheless.

Swift is Surrealist in malice,

Sade is Surrealist in sadism.

'hateaubriand is Surrealist in e#oticism.

'onstant is Surrealist in "olitics.

>ugo is Surrealist when he isn9t stu"id.

8esbordes 5almore is Surrealist in love.

)ertrand is Surrealist in the "ast.

Eabbe is Surrealist in death.

4oe is Surrealist in adventure.

)audelaire is Surrealist in morality.

Eimbaud is Surrealist in the way he lived, and elsewhere.

Mallarm2 is Surrealist when he is confiding.

arry is Surrealist in absinthe.

+ouveau is Surrealist in the kiss.

Saint 4ol Eou# is Surrealist in his use of symbols.

3argue is Surrealist in the atmos"here.

5ach2 is Surrealist in me.

Eeverdy is Surrealist at home.

Saint ean 4erse is Surrealist at a distance.

Eoussel is Surrealist as a storyteller.


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tc.

I would like to stress the "oint$ they are not always Surrealists,in that I discern in each of them a certain number of"reconceived ideas to which very naively! they hold. &heyhold to them because they had not hear" the S!rrealistvoice, the one that continues to "reach on the eve of deathand above the storms, because they did not want to servesim"ly to orchestrate the marvelous score. &hey wereinstruments too full of "ride, and this is why they have notalways "roduced a harmonious sound.: (I could say the sameof a number of "hiloso"hers and "ainters, including, among thelatter, =ccello, from "ainters of the "ast, and, in the modernera, Seurat, Fustave Moreau, Matisse (in 0


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8This is an o(t4tol" tale that I tell, a (amo!s #oem that I rerea"$I am leaning against a wall, with m ver"ant ears an" m li#sb!rne" to a cris#'8

sk Ma# Morise$

8The bear o( the caves an" his (rien" the bittern, the vol4a!4vent an" his valet the win", the Lor" hancellor with his La" ,the scarecrow (or s#arrows an" his accom#lice the s#arrow,the test t!be an" his "a!ghter the nee"le, this carnivore an"his brother the carnival, the swee#er an" his monocle, theMississi##i an" its little "og, the coral an" its 2!g o( mil), theMiracle an" its *oo" Lor", might 2!st as well go an" "isa##ear(rom the s!r(ace o( the sea'8

sk ose"h 8elteil$

8Alas9 I believe in the virt!e o( bir"s' An" a (eather is all itta)es to ma)e me "ie la!ghing'8

sk


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S 'E &S /3 &> M FI' ow old are you60 . 0Cou.0


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O. 0 hat is your name60 . 03orty five houses.0


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that it acts on the mind very much as drugs do% like drugs, itcreates a certain state of need and can "ush man to frightfulrevolts. It also is, if you like, an artificial "aradise, and the tasteone has for it derives from )audelaire9s criticism for the samereason as the others. &hus the analysis of the mysteriouseffects and s"ecial "leasures it can "roduce in manyres"ects Surrealism occurs as a new vice which does notnecessarily seem to be restricted to the ha""y few% likehashish, it has the ability to satisfy all manner of tastes suchan analysis has to be included in the "resent study.

?. It is true of Surrealist images as it is of o"ium images thatman does not evoke them% rather they 0come to hims"ontaneously, des"otically. >e cannot chase them away% forthe will is "owerless now and no longer controls the faculties.0:()audelaire. It remains to be seen whether images have everbeen 0evoked.0 If one acce"ts, as I do, Eeverdy9s definition itdoes not seem "ossible to bring together, voluntarily, what hecalls 0two distant realities.0 &he ju#ta"osition is made or notmade, and that is the long and the short of it. 4ersonally, Iabsolutely refuse to believe that, in Eeverdy9s work, imagessuch as

In the broo), there is a song that (lows

or$

7a !n(ol"e" li)e a white tablecloth

or$

The worl" goes bac) into a sac)

reveal the slightest degree of "remeditation. In my o"inion, itis erroneous to claim that 0the mind has gras"ed therelationshi"0 of two realities in the "resence of each other.3irst of all, it has sei7ed nothing consciously. It is, as it were,from the fortuitous ju#ta"osition of the two terms that a"articular light has s"rung, the light o( the image, to which weare infinitely sensitive. &he value of the image de"ends u"onthe beauty of the s"ark obtained% it is, conse*uently, a functionof the difference of "otential between the two conductors.


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hen the difference e#ists only slightly, as in a com"arison,:('om"are the image in the work of ules Eenard. the s"ark islacking. +ow, it is not within man9s "ower, so far as I can tell,to effect the ju#ta"osition of two realities so far a"art. &he"rinci"le of the association of ideas, such as we conceive of it,militates against it. /r else we would have to revert to anelli"tical art, which Eeverdy de"lores as much as I. e aretherefore obliged to admit that the two terms of the image arenot deduced one from the other by the mind for the s"ecific"ur"ose of "roducing the s"ark, that they are the simultaneous"roducts of the activity I call Surrealist, reason9s role beinglimited to taking note of, and a""reciating, the luminous"henomenon.

nd just as the length of the s"ark increases to the e#tent thatit occurs in rarefied gases, the Surrealist atmos"here createdby automatic writing, which I have wanted to "ut within thereach of everyone, is es"ecially conducive to the "roduction ofthe most beautiful images. /ne can even go so far as to saythat in this di77ying race the images a""ear like the onlyguide"osts of the mind. )y slow degrees the mind becomesconvinced of the su"reme reality of these images. t firstlimiting itself to submitting to them, it soon reali7es that theyflatter its reason, and increase its knowledge accordingly. &he

mind becomes aware of the limitless e#"anses wherein itsdesires are made manifest, where the "ros and cons areconstantly consumed, where its obscurity does not betray it. Itgoes forward, borne by these images which enra"ture it, whichscarcely leave it any time to blow u"on the fire in its fingers.

&his is the most beautiful night of all, the lightning4(ille"night$ day, com"ared to it, is night.

&he countless kinds of Surrealist images would re*uire aclassification which I do not intend to make today. &o grou"them according to their "articular affinities would lead me farafield% what I basically want to mention is their common virtue.3or me, their greatest virtue, I must confess, is the one that isarbitrary to the highest degree, the one that takes the longesttime to translate into "ractical language, either because itcontains an immense amount of seeming contradiction orbecause one of its terms is strangely concealed% or because,


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"resenting itself as something sensational, it seems to endweakly (because it suddenly closes the angle of its com"ass ,or because it derives from itself aridiculous (ormal justification, or because it is of a hallucinatorykind, or because it very naturally gives to the abstract themask of the concrete, or the o""osite, or because it im"lies thenegation of some elementary "hysical "ro"erty, or because it"rovokes laughter. >ere, in order, are a few e#am"les of it$

The r!b o( cham#agne' (< =&EJ M/+&

>ea!ti(!l as the law o( arreste" "evelo#ment o( the breast ina"!lts, whose #ro#ensit to growth is not in #ro#ortion to the/!antit o( molec!les that their organismassimilates' (< =&EJ M/+&

A ch!rch stoo" "a00ling as a bell' (4>I


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benign joys it allows itself in general. &his is the only way it hasof turning to its own advantage the ideal *uantity of eventswith which it is entrusted.: (ere are 0the ele"hantswith the heads of women and the flying lions0 which used to


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make Sou"ault and me tremble in our boots to meet, here isthe 0soluble fish0 which still frightens me slightly. 4/ISS/+S/


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The most bea!ti(!l straws

> 5 3 8 8 '/


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verything could be

worked out so wellPAR-' -' A B-, .-%%A,E/at h o0t for

the fire that o ers &> 4E C E

of fair eather

B now thatThe 0ltra iolet ra"s

have finished their task

short an" sweet

&> 3IES& >I&4 4 E

O3 !$AN!ERe ill e

The an erin+ sin+er

/$ERE -' $E5


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in 6e6or"

in his ho0seAT T$E '#-TOR'7 BA%%

I do

as I dance

/hat people ihat the"7re +oin+

to o

nd we could offer many many more e#am"les. &he theater,"hiloso"hy, science, criticism would all succeed in finding theirbearings there. I hasten to add that future Surrealisttechni*ues do not interest me.

3ar more serious, in my o"inion: ( hatever reservations I maybe allowed to make concerning res"onsibility in general andthe medico legal considerations which determine an

individual9s degree of res"onsibility com"lete res"onsibility,irres"onsibility, limited res"onsibility (sic however difficult itmay be for me to acce"t the "rinci"le of any kind ofres"onsibility, I would like to know how the first "unishableoffenses, the Surrealist character of which will be clearlya""arent, will be 2!"ge"' ill the accused be ac*uitted, or willhe merely be given the benefit of the doubt because of


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e#tenuating circumstances6 It9s a shame that the violation ofthe laws governing the 4ress is today scarcely re"ressed, for ifit were not we would soon see a trial of this sort$ the accusedhas "ublished a book which is an outrage to "ublic decency.Several of his 0most res"ected and honorable0 fellow citi7enshave lodged a com"laint against him, and he is also chargedwith slander and libel. &here are also all sorts of other chargesagainst him, such as insulting and defaming the army, incitingto murder, ra"e, etc. &he accused, moreover, wastes no timein agreeing with the accusers in 0stigmati7ing0 most of theideas e#"ressed. >is only defense is claiming that he does notconsider himself to be the author of his book, said book beingno more and no less than a Surrealist concoction which"recludes any *uestion of merit or lack of merit on the "art of

the "erson who signs it% further, that all he has done is co"y adocument without offering any o"inion thereon, and that he isat least as foreign to the accused te#t as is the "residing judgehimself.

hat is true for the "ublication of a book will also hold true fora whole host of other acts as soon as Surrealist methods beginto enjoy wides"read favor. hen that ha""ens, a new moralitymust be substituted for the "revailing morality, the source ofall our trials and tribulations. I have intimated it often

enough are the a""lications of Surrealism to action. &o besure, I do not believe in the "ro"hetic nature of the Surrealistword. 0It is the oracle, the things I say.0: (Eimbaud. Ces, asm!ch as I li)e, but what of the oracle itself6:: (Still, S&I


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Similarly, in ?K?K, Sou"ault went into any number ofim"ossible buildings to ask the concierge whether 4hili""eSou"ault did in fact live there. >e would not have beensur"rised, I sus"ect, by an affirmative re"ly. >e would havegone and knocked on his door. Men9s "iety does not fool me.

&he Surrealist voice that shook 'umae, 8odona, and 8el"hi isnothing more than the voice which dictates my less irascibles"eeches to me. My time must not be its time, why should thisvoice hel" me resolve the childish "roblem of my destiny6 I"retend, unfortunately, to act in a world where, in order to takeinto account its suggestions, I would be obliged to resort to twokinds of inter"reters, one to translate its judgements for me,the other, im"ossible to find, to transmit to my fellow menwhatever sense I could make out of them. &his world, in which I

endure what I endure (don-t go see , this modern world, Imean, what the devil do you want me to do with it6 4erha"sthe Surrealist voice will be stilled, I have given u" trying tokee" track of those who have disa""eared. I shall no longerenter into, however briefly, the marvelous detailed descri"tionof my years and my days. I shall be like +ijinski who was takenlast year to the Eussian ballet and did not reali7e whats"ectacle it was he was seeing. I shall be alone, very alonewithin myself, indifferent to all the world-s ballets. hat I havedone, what I have left undone, I give it to you.

nd ever since I have had a great desire to show forbearanceto scientific musing, however unbecoming, in the final analysis,from every "oint of view. Eadios6 3ine. Sy"hilis6 If you like.4hotogra"hy6 I don-t see any reason why not. &he cinema6

&hree cheers for darkened rooms. ar6 Fave us a good laugh.

&he tele"hone6 >ello. Couth6 'harming white hair. &ry to makeme say thank you$ 0&hank you.0 &hank you. If the commonman has a high o"inion of things which "ro"erly s"eakingbelong to the realm of the laboratory, it is because suchresearch has resulted in the manufacture of a machine or thediscovery of some serum which the man in the street views asaffecting him directly. >e is *uite sure that they have been


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trying to im"rove his lot. I am not *uite sure to what e#tentscholars are motivated by humanitarian aims, but it does notseem to me that this factor constitutes a very marked degreeof goodness. I am, of course, referring to true scholars and notto the vulgari7ers and "o"ulari7ers of all sorts who take out"atents. In this realm as in any other, I believe in the "ureSurrealist joy of the man who, forewarned that all others beforehim have failed, refuses to admit defeat, sets off fromwhatever "oint he chooses, along any other "ath save areasonable one, and arrives wherever he can. Such and suchan image, by which he deems it o""ortune to indicate his"rogress and which may result, "erha"s, in his receiving "ublicacclaim, is to me, I must confess, a matter of com"leteindifference. +or is the material with which he must "erforce

encumber himself% his glass tubes or my metallic feathers1 sfor his method, I am willing to give it as much credit as I domine. I have seen the inventor of the cutaneous "lantar refle#at work% he mani"ulated his subjects without res"ite, it wasmuch more than an 0e#amination0 he was em"loying% it wasobvio!s that he was (ollowing no set #lan' >ere and there heformulated a remark, distantly, without nonetheless settingdown his needle, while his hammer was never still. >e left toothers the futile task of curing "atients. >e was whollyconsumed by and devoted to that sacred fever.

Surrealism, such as I conceive of it, asserts ourcom"lete noncon(ormism clearly enough so that there can beno *uestion of translating it, at the trial of the real world, asevidence for the defense. It could, on the contrary, only serveto justify the com"lete state of distraction which we ho"e toachieve here below. Bant-s absentmindedness regardingwomen, 4asteur-s absentmindedness about 0gra"es,0 'urie-sabsentmindedness with res"ect to vehicles, are in this regard"rofoundly sym"tomatic. &his world is only very relatively intune with thought, and incidents of this kind are only the mostobvious e"isodes of a war in which I am "roud to be"artici"ating. 0'e monde n-est *ue tr;s relativement Q lamesure de la "ens2e et les incidents de ce genre ne sont *ueles 2"isodes jus*u-ici les "lus mar*uants d-une guerre


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d-ind2"endence Q la*uelle je me fais gloire de"artici"er.0 Surrealism is the 0invisible ray0 which will one dayenable us to win out over our o""onents. 0Cou are no longertrembling, carcass.0 &his summer the roses are blue% the woodis of glass. &he earth, dra"ed in its verdant cloak, makes aslittle im"ression u"on me as a ghost. It is living and ceasing tolive which are imaginary solutions. #istence is elsewhere.

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MANIFESTO Andre Breton

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